Misconceptions
by Aimlesslee
Summary: Shipwrecked off the coast of Skyrim, artifact collector Joslin managed to make her way to the tiny village of Morthal. When she meets Benor, sparks fly...though not the kind of sparks either of them is really anticipating. Rated M for language, and eventual adult situations. I really suck at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm back! After a break from playing Skyrim for a while, Hearthfire finally dragged me back in. Since I still had the ideas for Benor rattling around in my head, I decided the perfect place to start a new character was in Morthal. My original ideas for his story have changed significantly, but I'm just as excited about writing it! I hope you'll enjoy!_

_For those that are curious to see how he looks in my game, and how I picture him as I write this, you can find his mod here on the Nexus: _ _NPC Overhaul Hadvar Faendal Benor by Harodath_

_000000000000_

The town torches glowed creepily, flickering in fog so thick Joslin could barely make out the outline of buildings in the distance. She lurched forward another step, cursing loudly as the ice cold mud attempted to suck a boot right off of her foot.

_Fucking mud. Fucking bogs. Fucking Skyrim._

She was soaking wet and pretty sure she was going to freeze to death if she didn't get indoors quickly. The fact that she was even alive was nothing short of a miracle. Alive, but in a world of hurt. The small ship she had chartered to take her back to High Rock from Morrowind, positively stuffed to the gills with the finds of three years worth of ruin exploration, had run afoul of an iceberg. It, as well as everything she had worked so hard to acquire, was no doubt resting at the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts by now.

Along with that idiot Nord who had been at the helm, piss drunk on that disgusting swill he called ale.

_See how much good that frost resistance does you now, you drunken sonofabitch._

Teeth chattering loudly, she pushed forward towards the lights. She had no idea where she was, having washed ashore almost a day ago. She'd managed to find a small cave to get out of the freezing, howling blizzard, and as soon as the sun came back up she found a road started heading west. She knew very little about the layout of Skyrim, but enough to know that if she wanted to get out of the bitter cold, then that was her best bet. She'd been to Solitude before, briefly. Compared to where she'd unceremoniously landed, it was positively a tropical paradise.

But then she'd hit this damnable marsh and its pea soup fog. It had stopped snowing and the cold had let up slightly, but the night was dark and she quickly lost sight of the road. She'd managed to get all kinds of turned around and confused. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she'd have to admit she'd begun to panic a bit before those lights swept into view. Relief overwhelmed her as she was finally able to make out wooden walkways leading out of the swampy muck and into a small village.

She could only imagine what a spectacle she made as she burst through the door of the inn. She didn't care. There was a fire roaring in a pit in the middle of the common room, and the smell of food made her stomach start gurgling with joy. Patting her thigh, she was relieved to find that her well secured emergency coin stash hadn't gotten dislodged as she'd fought the sea for her life.

Joslin took a moment to look around the room, noting that there were very few patrons. An orc bard sang, horribly, in a corner, while a group of town guards sat around a table eating. One in particular, a hulking brute of a Nord with shaggy, brown hair and a deep, gravelly voice, was being obnoxiously boisterous. _Fucking Nords, _she thought, wincing as a sliver of headache shot through her head_. _The stress of her situation was finally catching up to her. The innkeeper, an older Redguard woman, approached her, face lined with worry. Joslin could hear her _tutt tutt tutting _under her breath from halfway across the room. She really must look a fright.

"I don't know what happened to you, but it sure wasn't pretty!" she exclaimed, stopping in front of Joslin, looking her up and down. The guards stopped their drunken revelry and all turned to stare.

_Great, just great._

"Shipwreck. Last night. Been lost," she tried to explain through teeth that wouldn't stop clattering about in her head. The Redguard tsked again, and grabbed Joslin by the arm leading her to the back of the inn and into the kitchen. She could hear the guards resume their conversation, no doubt filled with speculation about her now.

"We don't have much here in Morthal by way of conveniences. Not like up in Solitude. But there's a water pump back here. You get yourself cleaned off and I'll see if I can find some dry clothes for you. Rinse those leathers off while you're at it," she said, indicating the muddy armor that was clinging to Joslin like a second skin. "That bog muck dries on them, they're as good as gone. My names Jonna, by the way."

"Joslin," she stammered through thawing lips, and started peeling off her armor. Satisfied, Jonna nodded and made her way back out to the commons. Heading for the pump, Joslin winced as she splashed cold water over her arms and legs, before finally shoving her head under the spigot and doing her best to rinse the mud out of her tangled, black locks. If there was ever a time to be thankful for short hair, this was it. Sighing, she ran her fingers through her wet hair trying to get out the last of the snarls.

"This was the best I could do. Belonged to a girl who used to work here before she ran off with our with our last bard. The good one," Jonna said, re-entering the room. She handed Joslin a threadbare towel and a dress that looked like it had seen many a night of use. "I'm going to put a bowl of stew out on the bar for you. You come on out and eat as soon as you're ready. You'll be warm and feeling better in no time."

Joslin was grateful for the dry clothes, but when she slipped the dress on and looked down at herself she had to force back a groan. Its previous owner had clearly enjoyed putting her assets out on display, as the front dipped dangerously low, revealing far more of Joslin's curves than she typically liked to show off. She was a short woman, just a few inches over five feet tall, but she was by no means a _small _woman. The dress was positively indecent.

_Looks like the Morthal guards are going to get a special thrill tonight, _she thought, before taking a deep breath and stepping into the commons again. Sure enough, the conversation came to an immediate halt yet again and one of the men, the one who had been particularly loud before, let out a wolf whistle. She made a point of meeting his gaze head on before dramatically rolling her eyes and making a rude gesture in his direction. She took a small bit of pleasure in watching him go slack-jawed before turning to the bar and settling in to eat the steaming bowl of stew that had been laid out for her.

This was going to be a painful evening.

_000000000000_

The roaring laughter of the guards around him was almost loud enough to drown out the roar of the blood rushing to Benor's cheeks. Almost. Eyes narrowing to slits, he stared at the back of the stranger's head, taking in the messy black hair. It was much shorter than what he usually liked on a woman, but it suited her face. And her eyes, before she'd rolled them at him, had flashed green in the firelight. Benor had always been a sucker for green eyes.

His gaze traveled lower, tracing the curves the bodice of that excuse for a dress revealed. He was a sucker for a nice ass, too. She was just a tiny scrap of a thing, though. A Breton, if he had to wager a guess. And that likely meant magic. Benor let loose a shudder of distaste. Well, damned if he was going to let a milk-drinking mage humiliate him in front of the guards, no matter how attractively it was packaged up.

Slugging back the rest of his ale, he paid half attention to the conversation going on around him, keeping one eye on the woman at the bar. She had a healthy appetite, that was for sure. And she must be stronger than she looked, because he knew all too well how difficult surviving the cold of the northern shores of Skyrim was, let alone surviving a shipwreck. Probably some kind of magey trick. Water breathing, blood boiling. Something unnatural and probably requiring unspeakable acts of evil. She looked over her shoulder, catching him staring at her. She rolled her eyes again before turning back to her food.

_Unspeakably cute acts of evil, _he thought and grinned. He pushed back from the table and sauntered up to the bar, purposely crowding in close and forcing her to lean a little to the left to avoid his arm brushing up against her. He ordered another ale from Jonna, then turned to face the woman who was doing her best to ignore him while she ate.

"You know, it's real unladylike to make a gesture like that," he chastised her, grinning when she flashed an annoyed look up at him. Shoving her empty bowl away from her, she twisted her body on the seat to face him.

"And I suppose you think it's gentlemanly to whistle and carry on like you do?" She arched an eyebrow up at him before sliding off the stool to stand in front of him. He was standing so close she was practically pressed up against him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. Gulping, he looked down and was treated to an eyeful of abundant cleavage.

"It was meant in appreciation," he claimed, reaching out his hand to rest it on her hip.

"Is that what it was?" She tilted back her head and looked up at him, something mischievous and dark dancing through her eyes. She pressed in closer to him and went up on her tip toes, her breasts crushing against his chest. Her tongue darted out to trace her lower lip, and Benor's mouth went dry. Curling a hand behind his neck, he felt her fingers gently tugging at his hair. "Let me show you how I express _my _appreciation."

_This is going much better than planned, _he thought, eyes trained on her slightly parted lips. The inn had gone completely silent, and he could feel the eyes of the guards on them. Well, there'd be no doubts about his manly prowess now! He lowered the hand on her hip down and around, cupping her backside as he started to lower his mouth to hers.

The fingers that had moments before been delicately stroking his hair, suddenly pulled viciously, yanking his head back. He had but a moment to look into her eyes, seeing the seductiveness turn to malicious glee as she gave him a hard shove, causing him to stumble back into a barstool. Her grin was almost feral and for a split second he held onto the hope that this encounter could still go in his favor, then her fist slammed into his eye and, stunned, he sank slowly to the ground.

"That's how _I _show appreciation for pigs who ogle my tits and grope my ass. Sleep well, Sunshine," she chortled. She lowered her gaze to where his not-yet-dead hope for a better evening was still straining against the front of his pants, and snorted. "Hope you've got access to a cold shower, jackass."

He watched her stalk across the commons and into a bedroom, slamming the door behind her with a resounding thunk. He stayed sprawled out on the floor, his eye throbbing and his ears ringing with the laughter of his friends. He was absolutely mortified, and yet… a slow grin tugged on the corner of his lips.

_Girl sure can throw a punch._


	2. Chapter 2

A light knock dragged Joslin up and out of sleep. Wrapping the blanket around her to ward off the chill of the room, she padded over to the door and cracked it open. Jonna was smiling at her from the other side.

"I gave your armor a good cleaning last night and set it out by the fire to dry. Should be good as new now. I've got breakfast ready, too, if you're hungry," she explained, proffering the dark leathers. Joslin nodded groggily and accepted them. They were stiff, but clean, and she was relieved to not have to spend the morning in that gods awful dress again. Her coin pouch was still tucked away where it should be, praise the Nine for honest people.

Of course, there wasn't much to steal. The gold she kept stashed on her was only meant for small emergencies, not getting stranded on the shores of a foreign country with her entire livelihood sunk to the bottom of the sea. She had enough on her to pay for food and a room here for maybe a few more nights, if the prices weren't too expensive. Judging by what little she'd seen of the village the night before, they shouldn't be. The place was a hole.

She'd have to find a way to make some coin, though, if she wanted to get back home. Growling softly, she shoved her legs into her pants and yanked on her shirt and vest. She'd sunk everything she had into that expedition to Morrowind, and it would have paid off. Big. The thought of going back to High Rock empty handed with only a few coins to her name pissed her off. Tapping a finger against her lips thoughtfully, she considered her options.

Skyrim was well known for all of its tombs and ruins. She'd done a little research on it before deciding on Morrowind, and while it had been appealing, the escalating civil war had been a big deterrent. Nords weren't exactly well known for their welcoming attitude, and having a foreigner digging around and snapping up all their ancient valuables wasn't likely to go over well, even under the best of circumstances. Still, there was money to be made here, and potentially lots of it.

She'd need supplies, maps, hired muscle… but she was getting ahead of herself. She'd have to start small and stockpile a little cash, establish a base for herself. There was always work to be found in towns and villages. You just needed to know who to ask, and Joslin had yet to meet an innkeeper who didn't have his or her ear directly to the ground. Grabbing a few coins and tucking the rest away in a dresser, she made for the commons and the promised breakfast.

Jonna was wiping down the bar and humming to herself, but otherwise the place was empty. Joslin was relieved. After last night's confrontation, she was dreading having to deal with any more town guards. Smiling brightly at Jonna, she took a seat and waited patiently for ham and eggs. The Redguard woman was nice, and seemed genuinely concerned over her well-being. It had been a long time since Joslin had had anyone trying to take care of her.

Savoring her first bite, she chewed slowly and continued to mull over her situation. Noticing Jonna still watching her as she swept up a corner of the room, she swallowed and offered an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry about what happened last night. I promise I'm not usually quite so violent."

Jonna laughed and leaned against her broom. "Wouldn't be the first time a man got slapped in here for getting a little too familiar with a lady. You just did it with a bit more gusto than most. It was impressive, really." Joslin smirked in response and went back to eating for a few minutes.

"So, Jonna, I have a bit of a problem," she said, after her belly was full. Jonna nodded for her to continue. "I'm stuck. I lost just about everything I own in that wreck, save for a little coin I had on me. I can pay for a room here for a few more days, but I need to make money, and I need to do it fairly quickly. Do you know of anything around town?"

"Well, Morthal isn't very big," Jonna said, frowning. "We don't even have a general store, just a little alchemy shop that Lami runs, but she doesn't need any help. The Jarl sometimes has odd jobs, bandit camps that need clearing out, that sort of thing. But you don't exactly look like the mercenary type," she paused, and Joslin laughed and nodded. "What exactly is it that you do?"

"Well," Joslin started, drumming her fingers on the bar top. "When I'm in one of my fancier moods, I like to refer to myself as a treasure hunter. I was on my way home from an expedition when I got waylaid here, in fact. I hit up old ruins, tombs, that sort of thing. Find the good stuff and sell it."

"You know, there are a couple of old ruins like that around here. Nothing very big I don't think, and I don't know that you'd find anything particularly valuable, but it could be a start. Solitude isn't far from here, you could probably sell most of what you find there. My, that does sound like an exciting line of work," Jonna sighed wistfully, staring down at her broom. Joslin smiled. She really did like this woman.

"Problem is, I need a crew for that kind of thing. Bigger expeditions require a bigger crew, of course, but even for a small excursion I like to take someone with me. I'm not completely helpless, but like you noted, I'm really not much of a fighter. And right now, I don't have the funds to hire someone to tag along and keep my sorry ass alive."

"Hmm. That _is _a problem," Jonna replied, looking thoughtful. "You know… you're probably not going to like this, but I think Benor is your best bet."

"Benor?" She had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly who Jonna was talking about. "He wouldn't happen to be the man I punched in the face, would he?"

"The one and only," Jonna laughed when Joslin winced. "I know you two got off to a rough start last night, and rightly so, but he really isn't so bad. He hangs out with the guard a lot, looking to get offered a place with them, but it hasn't happened so far. Like I said, it's a small village, not a whole lot of need for more guardsmen. And last I heard he was looking for more ways to make money, too. Might be you could convince him to work with you, maybe share the profits of whatever you're able to scavenge up."

"I don't know about that. I'm not particularly eager to throw my lot in with a man-handling meathead, and I doubt he'd be too happy to see me after the number I did on his pride," Joslin said, her thoughts flashing to the man she'd met the night before. _Handsome meathead, _she thought, remembering bright blue eyes staring into her own. And she had to admit, those wandering fingers had possessed a certain amount of finesse. Feeling a slight flutter low in her belly, she quickly reigned in her traitorous mind. _No way. No how._

Jonna started laughing, as if she could see what Joslin was thinking. "To be fair, you were egging him on. I wouldn't exactly call the boy chaste, I've seen him bring his fair share of women to his room," she said, indicating a door opposite the commons from where Joslin was staying. "But I can't say that he's prone to much man-handling. Especially not of strangers. As for his pride, well, I wouldn't worry about that too much either. If there's one thing Benor respects, it's a person who knows how to throw his weight around. Or hers, in your case. I know he wasn't expecting a tiny little thing like you to knock him flat on his rear. He might be sore to admit it, but I suspect you impressed him more than anything else."

"I see you don't have anything to say about him not being a meathead," Joslin snarked, and Jonna just started laughing harder.

"You're quick to judge, aren't you?" she asked, and Joslin shrugged. The facts spoke for themselves, as far as she was concerned. Jonna smiled softly, and continued. "You might want to learn to temper that habit. Sometimes people can surprise you. You go talk to him. He's usually hanging out at the guardhouse during the day." Shaking her head lightly, Joslin smiled at Jonna before gathering herself up to go search out the big lunk.

_Maybe they can,_ she thought, as she opened the door and stepped outside. _But usually they don't._

0000000000

Benor sprawled out in a chair, listening to the guards chatter around him. He'd taken a lot of ribbing this morning over his bruised eye, and it had put him in a foul mood. That, and the lack of sleep. The dreams he'd had... short black hair, green eyes, and lush lips doing things to him that made him shift uncomfortably. He shook his head to banish the image and looked up when the door swung open. _Am I in Hell? I must be in Hell, _he thought, as those same eyes and lips came into view. She was the last person he'd expected to walk through that door.

"Can I talk to you? Privately?" she asked, hitching her head to indicate she wanted to go outside.

"What do you want? Come to hit me in the other eye?" he snarled, his mood taking another nosedive when she met his eyes and snickered. _Breton bitch._ He stood up and walked over to where she stood. She wasn't wearing the dress anymore, but something about her leathers, the way they hugged her curves and covered her up almost from chin to toe, was disconcerting.

"I just want to talk. I promise I won't bust up that pretty face any more than I already have." Benor noticed her wince as she said the last part, like she'd let slip loose something she was thinking but hadn't meant to say out loud. He smirked, his mood instantly improving. Maybe she wasn't so impervious to him after all.

Brushing past her, he stepped outside and made his way towards the bridge at the far end of town. They'd be able to talk privately there, without the guards parading back and forth as they patrolled the docks. Reaching his destination he leaned back on the railing, waiting for her to get to whatever point she felt the need to make.

"Ok, here's the thing," she said, leaning back on the opposite rail. "I need to make some money, and in order to do that, I need your help."

"What makes you think I'd want to help you? Hell, woman, I don't even know your name."

"Oh, right. Well, I'm Joslin." He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. Clearly annoyed, she shoved a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. "A little bird told me you're looking to make some extra money. You help me, and Ican help you."

"And why, exactly, do I need your help to do that?" He bit back a laugh when she scowled up at him. She was cute when she was frustrated. A little too cute, maybe. It made him want to do things to her that would earn the other black eye she'd promised not to give him.

"Because I'm good at it. Really good at it," she explained, and this time he couldn't hold back his laughter.

"If you're so good at it, why do you need me?" Oh, she was getting pissed now. And he was enjoying every second of it. Her eyes flashed in anger.

"I'm good at making the money, but I need help getting the things to make it with. I hunt down artifacts, jewels, things of value. I sell them. Profit. But I can't do it alone. Tombs and ruins, they're dangerous places. But that's where all the best things are hidden away."

"I see," he said, the pieces starting to click into place. She needed muscle. Well, he had plenty. But he couldn't resist the urge to keep toying with her. "And now that I know your master plan, what's to stop me from just going on these treasure hunts alone?" This time, she laughed. He felt a momentary prick of annoyance. What the hell was so funny?

"Know your way around ancient tombs, do you? Know how to spot traps, work puzzles? Know how to figure out trash from treasure, so you don't claw your way out loaded down with useless junk? How about selling it? Do you know how to go about getting the best prices? I don't think so. You've got the brawn needed to get yourself in and out alive. But without my brains, you'd be pissing into the wind."

"I'm not stupid," he growled, and resisted the urge to kiss that smirk right off her adorable face. He looked out over the marsh, covered in a dense layer of early morning fog. Outsiders hated it, more often than not, but he thought it was beautiful. Peaceful.

Whoever told Joslin he was trying to save up some gold was right. There was a plot of land out there for sale, and he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. Taking odd jobs from the Jarl and helping out the guards when he could provided a little income, but at the rate he was going it would be years before he'd be able to afford to buy the land and build a house on it. In that time, someone else was bound to snatch it out from under him.

Looking back at her, he made a decision. She was an outsider, not to be trusted, but she also fascinated him. Her plan made sense, too. He'd been to the shops in Solitude, had seen some of the rare items they had for sale. They cost a pretty septim, alright, and they had to come from somewhere.

"How would this work?" he asked. "Would you be willing to do an even split with me?"

She frowned, clearly not used to the idea of only taking half the profits. She stared at him, biting her lower lip in thought, and he felt his pants growing tight in response. _Not now, _he admonished himself. Finally, she nodded and in a gesture that surprised him, stepped forward and stuck out a small hand to shake on the deal. Wrapping it up in his own, he couldn't resist the urge to rub his thumb along her palm. Shocked, she yanked it back and ran it down her thigh, as thought to wipe the feel of his touch away. He unsettled her, put her on edge. Good. She deserved it after taking that stab at his mental abilities.

"Ok, then," she said, moving back against the rail. "I'll go talk to Jonna, see if she can point us in the direction of someplace nearby. It's still early, if we get started soon we can probably get something accomplished today."

"Fine," he replied. "I'll wrap up a couple of things at the guardhouse and meet you back at the inn. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so." She nodded and he watched her as she walked back towards the village. _What have you just gotten yourself into? _he wondered, shaking his head. Something told him it was going to be a very interesting day, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Joslin bent over the map she had spread across the bar. She watched as Jonna pointed to a few locations in the vicinity of Morthal. A few caves, some ruins, and an old abandoned fort were all relatively close, but what finally caught her eye was a crypt just to the north of the village. Folgunthur. The name sounded promising.

"I don't think crawling around a bunch of dead Nords sounds like fun, but to each her own, I suppose," Jonna commented, giving a slight shudder. Joslin merely smiled, anticipation coursing through her veins. Benor's deep voice rumbled up from behind her, causing her to startle. She'd been so absorbed in the map she hadn't heard him come in.

"Dead Nords? Where are you dragging me, woman?"

Turning to face him, she took in his armored physique. He cut an imposing figure in the iron armor, impressive since in her opinion it made most men look like walking tin cans. The tops of his arms and legs were exposed and as he approached the bar she tried hard not to stare. _Dear gods, his muscles actually ripple. _She had the urge to drool and mentally kicked herself.

"A crypt, not far north of here," she replied, pointing to a location in the marsh. Benor studied the map, frowning.

"I know the place. We used to go out there as children, scare the crap out of each other with tales of draugr coming out at night to steal the children of the village. I don't think that disturbing the dead is a good idea."

"Do you know what's in crypts?" Joslin asked impatiently.

"Sure. Old stonework, gold, traps, bones."

"Yes, that's right. Gold, Sunshine. And, if we're really lucky, enchanted weapons, armor, jewelry, scrolls…" she trailed off, but his frown stayed in place.

"Don't call me Sunshine. It isn't right to steal from the dead. It's disrespectful."

Annoyed, Joslin clenched her teeth and counted to ten. _This…this is just one of the many things that make Nord meatheads such a pain in the ass._

"The dead don't need those things. They've already moved on to a better place. You and me, though. We could really use them. Don't think of it as stealing. Think of it as…reappropriation."

Benor shot her a look, and she shrugged at him. Sighing, he stepped back from the map and rubbed a hand along his stubbled jaw. She worried that he was going to change his mind. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed him more than he needed her. If he backed out now, she would be well and truly screwed.

"I don't like it, but I agreed to help. Let's go," he finally said, and she let go of the air she'd been holding in her lungs. Hurrying into her room, she grabbed the sack she'd borrowed from Jonna to haul whatever they managed to find, and slid her hands into her gloves. She wished she had something warmer to wear, but at least it shouldn't be a long walk. More often than not, the insides of tombs were stuffy and, while not exactly warm, were more comfortable than the outside temperatures.

Meeting Benor back outside the inn, she took in his armor again. "A horker is probably wearing my winter coat as a hat. What's your excuse?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face as he looked down at her. "This isn't winter coat weather. It's not even snowing. Be glad you didn't wind up in Dawnstar or Winterhold. You'd be blue by now."

"Other than Solitude, Morthal is all I've seen of Skyrim. No offense, but I think Solitude got the better deal, weather-wise. A lot less mud, too."

Benor laughed, and they started north. "The marshes have their own charm, once you get to know them. It's messy, sure, but I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful than the sunrise cutting through the fog, or the way they take on a dreamlike haze at twilight."

They traveled quietly for a while, searching for ways to cross the marsh and stay as dry as possible. Joslin knew Benor would have had no problem sloshing straight through, and she appreciated that he was making the effort to keep her comfortable. She wouldn't have thought him to be quite so considerate.

Maybe there was something to what Jonna had said, about her being too quick to judge. He'd given her a hard time when she'd asked him for help, but it was true that the rocky footing they'd started off on the night before was in part her own doing. She'd definitely goaded him, pressing for a reaction that would give her an excuse to lay into him. And he'd given her a hard time this morning when she'd come to him for help, but he'd seemed more playful than anything else. Truthfully, Joslin wasn't entirely sure what to make of the man. He was rough around the edges, but some of the things he'd said made her think there was a softer side to him.

_Quit trying to analyze him. Who cares what he's like? He helps you make a little money and then you move on, find some professionals and do things properly._

Not paying attention to where she was going she tripped over a root, and as she braced for a face full of mud she felt Benor's arms wrap around her, pulling her back against his solid chest. The chill of cold iron seeped through the leather at her back, but it was the warmth from his hands on her stomach that caused her to shiver. When he spoke, his voice vibrated through her.

"You should be more careful. It's easy to hurt yourself out here."

He let her go and she continued moving forward, refusing to look at him. The way her body reacted to him bothered her, made her feel slightly out of control. She'd never felt such a raw physical attraction for a man before. He was making it too easy for her to like him, and she didn't want that either. Attachments were messy, complicated. They got in the way. When you got involved with people, they expected you to stick around. She was no good at that. She liked being on her own, in charge of her life with no one to answer to for anything.

She almost tripped over another root, and stiffened her shoulders at the sound of his chuckle. _Ass. Giant, galumphing ass. _Her anger made her feel better, and she soldiered forward. When the crypt finally came into view, she let her relief wash over her. They were about to enter her world. This was something she would be in control of.

_0000000000_

Sighting the campsite set up next to the entrance of the crypts, he silently signaled for Joslin to stay back. However he felt about what they were going to do, he'd agreed to keep her safe and he intended to do just that. Creeping slowly towards the tents, he was quickly able to confirm they were empty. The fire pit at its center had gone out quite some time ago. If he had to take a guess, he'd say it had been a least a day or more since anyone had slept here.

"It's clear, but whoever set this up is probably inside."

Joslin brushed past him, moving to the largest of the tents. She quickly found a leather bound journal and started flipping through it. She stopped at a page, and he watched her lips move as she silently read the contents. When she finally looked up at him, her grin was huge, her eyes dancing with excitement.

"This talks about a Dragon Claw!" Benor had no idea what she was talking about, and his expression must have given him away. She gave another of what he was starting to think of as her patented eye rolls before continuing. "They're keys. I've read about these before. They're worth a decent amount on their own, but whatever they're locking up is probably worth even more."

"Too bad it looks like someone got here before us," Benor commented, eyes roving the area. He hated to admit it, but her excitement was contagious. Still, he was uneasy about entering the crypt. It went against everything that his parents had taught him about being respectful of his ancestors. _Looting the dead, what kind of Nord are you?_

"We should check it out anyway," Joslin insisted. "There could still be valuables inside that they missed. Besides, we're already here."

"And if they're still in there? I doubt they'll be too happy about having to share anything with us. Do you even know how to defend yourself?" Benor looked her up and down, noting belatedly that she had absolutely no weapon. Joslin raised an eyebrow at him.

"Aside from my killer right hook?" She laughed at his instant grimace. "I can do this." Her eyes squeezed shut for a second, and when they opened again they were flashing pale purple. Benor reeled back as a giant spectral wolf appeared at her side and let loose an unearthly howl. Uttering a curse, he spat on the ground at her feet.

"Magic! I knew it! Keep that thing away from me," he snarled, drawing his sword and pointing it at the wolf. The mirth that had been shining on Joslin's face died instantly, replaced by a blank stare. Muttering a few words too low for Benor to hear, the wolf disappeared with a loud crack. They stared at each for a few moments, Joslin's lips twisting into an ugly sneer.

"I can heal, too, but I suppose you want me to keep that away from you as well."

"It's not the same thing," Benor argued. "Healing magic comes from the Divines. Sorcery is something else. Evil."

"Evil," she shrieked, causing him to wince. "You think I'm evil?"

Benor paused for a moment, realizing what he'd just implied. Did he think she was evil? She was infuriating, yes, and she drove him to distraction. But in many ways, she had impressed him. She'd survived a situation that would likely have killed many others. She was feisty and not afraid to go after what she wanted. He questioned her morals, what with her willingness to plunder the graves of the dead for her own personal gain, and yet he had chosen to accompany her. No, he couldn't say that he thought she was evil.

"You pig-headed Nords! You sit and you judge," she ranted, before he had a chance to open his mouth. "But you don't bother to understand. Magic isn't evil. People are. You think only mages do unspeakable things? Has no one here ever used a sword to kill an innocent?"

Benor stepped towards her, reaching out a hand to try and grab her by the wrist, to make her stop pacing back and forth. She slapped it away. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes flashing. He'd never have thought such a small thing could contain so much indignant fury. He made a mental note to add hot-headed to her list of questionable qualities.

"Stop it, Joslin," he pleaded, but she continued to pace, mumbling under her breath. He caught bits and pieces, a few words here and there. Most of them were directed at him, and far from complimentary. Sighing, he reached out and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him.

"Let me go," she hissed, and for a second he thought she may bite him.

"Not until you calm down," he said, shaking his head. Her eyes narrowed and she rammed her foot into his shin. He grunted, but refused to loosen his grip. _Feisty. You thought that was a good thing, remember?_

"If you don't let me go, then by the gods I swear I'll…" He didn't let her finish the sentence. Giving in to the impulse that had been nagging at him since the night before, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her firmly in front of him, one hand leaving her shoulder to gently clasp her chin, holding her mouth in place. He gently caressed her lips with his until finally she relaxed and opened up to him, allowing him in to explore.

Groaning, he pulled her in closer, cursing the heavy iron that prevented him from feeling her pressed against him. She tasted inexplicably sweet, like lavender and apples. Her tongue tentatively met his, small swipes traded back and forth until, suddenly desperate, they tangled together in a wild battle for dominance. Her free hand dove into his hair, this time not to pull, but to roughly explore. Her fingers dragged across his scalp and his knees went weak. He brought the hand not locking his mouth to hers down to her breast, gently tracing the underside through her vest. She moaned into his mouth and he smiled, pulling back for air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning down to gently nuzzle the side of her neck. "I don't think you're evil."

She pulled away from him, and this time he let her go. She looked slightly dazed, and an attractive flush had turned her skin a dusky rose. She stared at his mouth for a moment, and he could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. Did she want to kiss him again, or slap him? He suspected she wanted to do both, equally as bad.

"Don't... don't do that again," she said, clearing her throat. She raised her eyes to his and frowned at his knowing smile.

"Why not?"

"I don't like you," she lied. Benor smirked and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch for a moment, before looking appalled with herself and backing up a few steps.

"Sure you don't," he teased.

"You're an oaf and an ass, and I don't like you," she said, the firmness in her voice forced. Benor just nodded, not letting the smirk drop from his lips.

"Absolutely."

"Look, let's just get in there. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish," she said, pointing behind him to the crypt doors.

"Of course. After you," he drawled, sweeping out an arm in a mockingly chivalrous pose.

It was all he could do to keep from laughing as she flounced off and immediately tripped over a root.


	4. Chapter 4

The crypt doors creaked shut behind her, echoing through the narrow entrance chamber. Benor let loose a low whistle, pointing to the scene in front of them. Peering around his shoulder, Joslin let her eyes adjust to the dim, flickering light offered by the torches that lined the walls. The bodies of several draugr and two humans were strewn across the floor at the bottom of the short set of stairs leading down and further into the ruins.

"Looks like the competition might not be quite as big a concern," Benor muttered, and she could hear the worry tingeing his voice. She touched him where his armor left his arm exposed and he turned to face her, a frown lining his face. She could read his doubts, and knew she had to work fast to reassure him.

"They weren't careful. If we move slow, watch what we're doing, we'll be fine. Surely you've fought off a few draugr in your time."

"Actually, no. I haven't. I've never been in one of these things before," he explained. She was starting to understand the depth of his proclaimed respect for the dead, but even still she was surprised. Wouldn't curiosity at least driven him to venture in a ways? Even before she had taken to artifact hunting, she'd held a deep curiosity for old places. Ruins fascinated her. They were links to the past, pictures of how their world used to be.

Pushing gently past him, she moved to the bodies and quickly rifled through them. She stuffed a few gold coins and a couple of garnets into her bag, before relieving one of the bandits of a pair of daggers. She wasn't an expert with them by any stretch of imagination, but they gave her a small measure of protection. Looking back up at Benor she could see the revulsion lining his face. She sighed, but she could at least understand that. His reaction to her magic earlier, however, still stung.

"We need to establish how this is going to work," she began. "I know you probably think you should take the lead..."

"Damn straight," he interrupted, but she raised a hand to silence him.

"But when we're in narrow passages like this, you need to let me go first." He frowned again, and opened his mouth to speak, but she continued on. "The traps in these places can be deadly, and very hard to spot. Please, trust me on this. I know what I'm doing."

They stared each other down for a few moments, but eventually he gave in. "Side by side when we can, understood?" She nodded eagerly, and they pressed forward.

She slowly began to creep through the passage, stopping here and there to check the contents of urns and more dead humans and draugr. Benor grunted with distaste every time, but she did her best to ignore him. He'd signed on for this. If he hated it that much, she'd be more than happy to renegotiate their terms. They passed a few open doors where she could tell the claw had been used, and her excitement mounted.

Eventually, the corridor opened up into a medium sized room with a visible second level. Joslin scanned the floor in the dim light, searching for pressure plates. Her eyes lit on a doorway and the hint of stairs leading up. As she started to move into the room, Benor's hand gripped her arm, and his breath fluttered through her hair as he pressed his mouth close to her ear.

"Side by side," he whispered, reminding her of their agreement. She shivered lightly, but nodded as they headed into the room. A few urns lined its walls, but there was nothing particularly interesting. They moved to the doorway leading up, and she eyed the metal grate that covered the water at the base of the stairs. Looking closely, she could see spikes deeper down in the water. They had officially encountered their first trap.

Pulling back, she scanned the arches of the doorway, looking for a trigger. Her eyes came to rest on a chain and she quickly reached out and pulled it. A loud clanking noise indicated that the metal grate had locked into place, and she carefully started applying her weight to test it. It seemed like it would hold, though she was concerned that Benor's considerable weight may strain it. Glancing back at him, she caught him gazing up at the second level.

"What is it?" she whispered, taking in his serious expression. He continued to study the narrow walkway that led to a large, circular platform. Finally he lowered his gaze back to her, concern lining his brow.

"I think I heard something," he explained, his eyes going back to the platform. Joslin stood quietly, straining her ears. For a long moment she heard nothing, but then a horrible, wet croaking sound made its way down to them.

"I believe that's our first live draugr," she explained. Benor shot her an exasperated look before gently pushing her back behind him. She started to complain, but he quickly cut her off.

"You need to let me go first. It's too narrow up there. I'll be stuck behind you."

"But what if there's another trap at the top?" she argued, but she knew he was right.

"We'll just have to take that chance," he muttered, drawing his sword and starting up the winding stairs. She kept close behind him, trying to see around his broad back. His quick intake of breath when he reached the upper doorway confirmed that they were about to face their first real threat. Joslin crouched down and peered through the space revealed by Benor's wide stance, feeling completely ridiculous, but revulsion swept through her as she caught a glimpse of the draugr, bent over a body and tearing into soft flesh.

Benor issued a challenging roar, causing her to jump and almost fall back. The draugr whipped around, its horrible gurgle echoing around the chamber. Benor charged, and Joslin heard the crunching sound of metal on bone. It was over in seconds, the draugr lying in a crumpled pile at his feet. She watched in horror as the pale blue glow of its eyes faded into nothingness.

She carefully edged past the remains, moving towards the body it had been so intent on ripping apart. The robed figure was a male Dunmer, and in his hand he clutched the ivory Dragon Claw. She pried it loose from his stiff fingers and examined it carefully. It was beautiful, clearly very valuable, and she was positive it would lead to even more precious items. She spent a few moments rifling through the rest of the Dunmer's belongings before coming across a note. It was in the same handwriting as the journal she had found in the campsite. She quietly began to read, excitement rising.

"This talks about an amulet, fragmented into three pieces. One of them should be here," she explained, turning to look back at Benor. He knelt down at her side, reading over her shoulder.

"It looks like the rest have been spread out across Skyrim," he commented, and she nodded.

"Saarthal, Geirmund's Hall... and then they can be forged together at Reachwater Rock," she explained, leaning back on her toes. Her shoulder brushed against his arm and she stood, quickly putting some distance between them. "It should be worth a fortune."

"If we can find them all," Benor countered, and she shrugged. Looking at the raised drawbridge blocking their way forward, she glanced around. A small pedestal was located to her right, with three holes that looked to be a perfect fit for the claw. Placing it in the grooves, she gave it a turn and squeaked with delight when the wooden bridge lowered with a loud thud.

"Let's go see what we can find," she said. Benor nodded and together they moved deeper into the crypt.

_0000000000_

As they pressed forward, Benor was relieved to find that the tomb opened up into more spacious rooms. It made it easier for him to keep Joslin out of trouble, as the draugr were beginning to pop up more frequently. Truth be told, it was also a relief to not be constantly distracted by her swaying backside, though he did find himself sheepishly missing the view.

Her insistence at stopping to dig through every urn they passed still chafed at his nerves, though. He understood they were down here to make money, but he wished she would show a little more respect. Surely not everything had to be pilfered, did it? This amulet she spoke of, he imaged it alone would be more valuable than any of the jewels she'd scavenged up so far.

But he had to admit, while watching her he was developing a grudging respect for the way her brain worked. She spotted traps with ease, and had effortlessly been giving him lessons on how to see them for himself. Twice now she had saved him from blundering onto pressure plates that likely would have caused him a serious amount of pain. And the way she tackled some of the puzzles they'd come across… how did she know which levers would produce results? The right way to turn the pillars with the symbols so doors opened before them, instead of poisoned darts raining down from above? She'd been right earlier; there was no way he'd have been able to do this on his own.

He stifled a smile when she began to coo over a few scrolls and potions that had been left out on an embalming table. Moving up behind her, he couldn't resist the urge to press against her back as he looked over her shoulder. "Where does this stuff come from? I understand what was placed in the urns, and the sarcophagi, but these things just lying about…"

"It depends," she said, stiffening and moving away from him. "Most likely people that have come to perform, ah, rituals on the dead. That sort of thing."

_Mages, _he thought. He recalled his earlier outburst, and felt a mixture of vindication and regret. On a rational level he knew that not all mages were like the ones that had likely stalked these tombs, performing their profane rituals. But some were. And the things they did… Benor closed his eyes and shuddered. He opened them again to find Joslin staring at him, contempt clear on her features.

"C'mon," she motioned forward. "Let's keep moving."

Benor nodded and tried not to let his frustration build when she kept more space between them than she had been previously. It was annoying that he cared so much about her anger with him, but he was growing even more annoyed with his own knee-jerk reaction to her spell. He forced his thoughts back to the task at hand when the approached a large chamber, its walls lined with closed sarcophagi. At the end was a large metal door with three symbol covered rings.

"This is different," he muttered as Joslin carefully worked the rings and fit the claw into the keyhole. The metal door slowly slid open, and they quickly passed through the entrance. No sooner had they crossed over, the sound of cracking stone filled the chamber. One sarcophagus after another popped open, draugr tumbling out with their horrible croaks. He rushed through the room, trying to take them out as quickly as possible, their pale eyes glowing in utter hatred. A shriek from behind him had him whirling around in time to see a draugr, larger and more menacing than the others, launching itself at Joslin.

She tried to dodge away from it, but its outreached claws tangled in her hair, dragging her towards it. She pulled out the daggers she had pilfered earlier, ramming one into its eye, the other hacking into its wrist until it released her. She stumbled backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground. Sobbing, she began scooting backwards as it bellowed an ungodly roar at her, ice and wind pouring from its mouth to cover her in a thin sheen of frost.

Benor flew at it, his shoulder connecting solidly with its stomach, and they both went tumbling across the room. Rolling until he was straddling its chest, he raised his sword and brought the tip down through the draugr's face with a sickening crunch. Panting, he rolled off and hurried to where Joslin was curled up, shivering uncontrollably. Sitting on the floor he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, attempting to rub warmth back into her limbs.

"T-t-that was h-h-horrible," she shivered, finally warming up enough to get the words out. Benor let his chin rest on her head, cradling her tight against him.

"Worst case of bad breath I've ever seen," he whispered, and was relieved when she started to giggle. Her laughter subsided and he quietly continued rubbing her arms. Eventually her shivering ceased and she started to squirm against him, eager to get free. He reluctantly let her go, standing to take in the rest of the chamber and make sure there were no more hidden threats waiting for them. A sharp gasp of pleasure from Joslin made him whirl back around. She was kneeling over the body of the draugr that had attacked her, triumphantly holding up a piece of amulet.

"This is it. It has to be," she murmured, rubbing a finger over its intricate carvings. Benor was struck by the look of reverence on her face, so much different than the way she had regarded the other baubles she'd been collecting as they'd trekked through the tomb. He made his way back to her side and gazed at the broken necklace. Even shattered, it was beautiful. Excitement at the prospect of finding the additional pieces rose inside of him, an inner war sparking over the feelings of unease for disturbing things long laid to rest. He was starting to understand what drove Joslin, and it left him confused and at odds with himself.

Joslin raised her face to his, an unmistakable mask of joy covering her features. He sorely wanted to kiss her again, but firmly stamped down the desire. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, his chest swelling when she treated him to an unguarded smile. He had no doubt she would be angry with him again shortly, once the euphoria of finding the fragment passed.

"All that trouble for such a tiny bauble," he teased, and she grinned.

"Absolutely worth it," she argued, and tucked it away in a pocket sewn into the underside of her vest, separate from the rest of the things she'd been collecting in her sack.

"Are you feeling ok?" he asked, helping her to stand when she nodded up at him. He almost stumbled back to the ground in surprise when she pressed herself against him in the briefest of hugs.

"Thanks, Benor," she whispered, releasing him and stepping back. He looked down at her, grinning goofily for a moment before finally shaking his head in wonder.

"What was that for?"

"I don't know. I guess I just want you to know that I appreciate you doing this with me. I understand… at least I think I understand… this isn't easy for you. You're going against years of tradition to help me out, and I feel like I should acknowledge that," she explained, reaching out to give his hand a quick squeeze.

"Well, thanks. I think," he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. He hadn't expected this shift in her attitude towards him. He'd felt plenty of attraction radiating off of her, even when she'd been furious with him, but this was different. An almost reluctant sense of camaraderie had blossomed between them and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

"We should head out now, I think," she said, stepping away from him and wiping crypt dust off her knees. Benor reached out and took the heavy sack from her, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed, and they fell in side by side.

_**A/N: **_

_**To my anonymous reviewer: Thank you! It makes me so happy to hear that you're enjoying this story so far! And don't worry. I still have plans for these two before I let things get too serious between them. :-)**_

_**And Valerianus: Thank you, as always!**_


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was shining brightly when they emerged from Folgunthur, all of the fog from earlier in the day long burned off. Joslin blinked her eyes a few times, trying to adjust from the gloom of the crypt, and took in a deep breath of fresh air. As much as she loved delving about in the ruins, it was always a relief to shake off the musty feeling afterwards. Grinning, she took the sack Benor had been carrying and gave it a healthy shake, the coins and trinkets jingling merrily.

"That wasn't what I was expecting," he commented, testing the weight of an enchanted sword she'd found in a corner as they made their exit. "When I hear tales about the draugr, I always assume they're exaggerations. Won't be making that assumption anymore."

Joslin angled her grin up at him. "I have to admit, that place was a bit more lively than I'm used to. But it was fun!"

"I don't think _fun_ is the word I would use," Benor said, shaking his head and shooting her a look that clearly indicated he thought she was nuts. "But it was kind of exciting. I think if we head for Solitude now we can make it before the shops close, get a couple of rooms at the Winking Skeever for the night and decide what the next step is for this amulet."

"You want to keep going?" Joslin was nonplussed. With as much grousing as he had done over the sanctity of the dead, she was sure he was going to take his cut and head back to Morthal. "We've made enough that I can afford to hire someone else to help me. I wouldn't want to keep offending your delicate sensibilities."

"I could use more," Benor shrugged, his shoulders rolling in a way that made her mouth go momentarily dry. Noticing her stare, he locked eyes with her, his gaze oddly intense. "Besides, I want to…see this through."

They set off in the direction of Solitude, Benor leading the way. Joslin wondered if he was thinking about the amulet, or the kiss he had laid on her before they entered Folgunthur. She'd been trying to keep it out of her head all afternoon, but it had been an easier feat to accomplish with the draugr to distract her. Now, as they traveled in silence, she kept replaying the memory over and over. Her cheeks burned when she remembered the way she had responded to him. She should have slapped him the second he touched his lips to hers. Instead, she'd practically jumped him. Probably _would _have jumped him, right there in that damned marsh, if he hadn't broken off the kiss when he had.

Did she want him to keep traveling with her? Just a few hours ago, she'd been eager to part ways with him as quickly as possible. She had been so angered by his hostility towards her magic, inexplicably hurt by it, in fact. But, that anger had started to fade, replaced with an odd mix of attraction and respect. The impulsive hug she'd given him in the crypt had shocked her, perhaps even more than it had clearly shocked him. She was used to spending her time with a never-ending parade of new people, but this budding affection – which was the only thing she could think to rightfully call it – was different for her.

As a child, her parents were always moving about, never living in one place long enough for her to form lasting friendships. Over time, the tug of jealousy she felt watching other children playing so easily together – an ease formed over years of companionship – faded away, and she learned to relish the excitement of seeing the next new place. It was her parents who had instilled in her a love of exploration, her drive to see what lay hidden away by rock and time. When she became an adult and struck out on her own, she'd taken a few lovers, the occasional crew member to warm her tent at night, but almost never more than that. The first one, Louis, was the only time she had gotten serious about someone.

She'd hired him on as a guide during her very first expedition to Cyrodiil. His interest in history and lore had rubbed off on her, made delving through ruins seem like so much more than simple looting. And, oh, how he'd made her laugh. They'd spend hours sitting awake long after the rest of the crew had retired, him regaling her with stories and anecdotes. He'd have made an excellent bard, if he'd had any musical talent to speak of. After that first expedition, he'd happily agreed to stay on with her, and they traveled together for months. She'd been so shy, the first time she invited him to her tent, but he made her feel like a goddess. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be cherished, adored. It had been so easy to fall in love with him, and so hard when it all fell apart.

He expected that their declarations of love meant that she would stay put, be content to get married and play the housewife, to bear his children and raise them. Despite all their time traveling together, he was by nature a sedentary man, a man who craved roots. For a while, she tried to make their relationship work, hoping he would realize that what he was asking of her was simply not who she was. Hoping that he would understand, and still be able to love her and make a life with her. But, it wasn't to be. She'd broken his heart, and her own, when she finally said goodbye.

"Septim for your thoughts," Benor's deep voice interrupted her ruminations. She shook her head and gave him a weary smile.

"They aren't worth that much. I'm just tired, it's been a difficult few days." He nodded at her explanation, but the look on his face told her he didn't believe her. For all that she had pegged him for being a dumb brute upon meeting him, she knew that she was wrong. He was perceptive and caught on to new things with very little effort. He adapted quickly, and met challenges with a gusto she had rarely seen before. And then there was a tender side to him, a desire to protect that seemed to run very deep. It was quite possibly the most dangerous thing about him.

"We'll be to Solitude soon, another hour at most. That's Dragon Bridge just up ahead," he said, indicating the small settlement that was coming into view. "We can stop and rest if you'd like."

Joslin eyed the position of the sun and shook her head. "Better to keep going. I'd rather try and sell what we can this evening. It'll give me a better idea of where I stand."

"I'd say _we're_ standing on a pretty good start," Benor grunted and eyed the sack she had been clinging to possessively as they traveled.

"Is the money really that important to you?" she questioned, fingering the rough burlap as she tried to get a better understanding of his intentions to continue on this journey with her. She still couldn't decide how she felt about that, nor could she get a bead on exactly why he wanted to. "It just seems, I don't know…surely you could find a less unpleasant way to make some."

"Yes, it is. And I don't find it all that unpleasant," he explained, but began laughing at the look of disbelief she shot him. "Ok, fine. Parts of it are unpleasant. But it's exciting, too. And it's neat how much stuff was just sitting around down there."

"Stuff," she snorted, and rattled the sack again. "This is not stuff."

"You're right. It's treasure. And we plundered it," he relented with a grin. She offered him a smile, and his grin turned lascivious. "Besides, I can think of worse ways to spend a day than staring at a well-formed rear end." Her eyes widened and her cheeks went hot, his laughter booming out around them.

"Alright, smartass. Next time you get to go first, traps be damned," she retorted, but he only laughed harder. Self-conscious now, she made sure to let him take the lead as they continued their walk. But she couldn't lie, she definitely wished his armor let her have half as good a view as he'd gotten.

_000000000_

Benor had never seen such a masterful display of haggling in all his life. He watched Joslin wheel and deal with no less than three different shopkeepers, all with positive results. By the end of her pitch she even had Endarie, known throughout Skyrim for being one of the crankiest merchants, eating jewels out of the palm of her hand. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that without that silver tongue of hers they wouldn't have made half as much money as they did.

And it was no small amount, he was sure. It would put him well on his way to purchasing that land, and by the time they finished gathering the rest of the amulet, he felt positive he'd have enough to put a small house on it. Not a grand home, to be sure, but it would be a start. As eager as he was to sit down and find out exactly how much closer to his goal he was, his growling stomach was becoming a far more pressing issue. As they stepped out of Radiant Raiment, twilight settling over the city, he placed a hand on the small of Joslin's back, guiding her towards The Winking Skeever.

"Food, woman. You've dragged me around enough for one day," he commanded playfully, as they entered the main hall. She raised her face to him, about to speak, when a joyful feminine shriek pierced the air.

"Benor! You rascal, it's been ages!"

_Oh, shit, _he thought, but before he had time to react a warm body plowed into him, willowy arms wrapping around his neck and a soft mouth pressing against his in an enthusiastic kiss.

Lisette. He'd completely forgotten she regularly frequented the inn, playing for tips. A detail that left him somewhat puzzled, considering he'd spent more than a few nights here warming a bed with her. There had even been a time, brief though it was, that he'd considered pursuing something a bit more serious with her. But, truth to be told, she was a touch too flakey for him. Sweet as the day was long, definitely, but completely lacking in any kind of ambition and more than a little scatterbrained.

"Why haven't you come to visit me?" she purred, placing a hand possessively on his chest.

Swallowing hard, he noticed the arched brow Joslin was aiming at him. Carefully extracting himself from the blonde's arms, he took her shoulders in his hands in an attempt to keep her from wrapping herself around him again. "I've been busy, Lis. Trying to get in with the Morthal guard still."

"Well, you're here now," she replied, weaseling in to give him another kiss. He turned his head and her lips landed on his cheek, but she continued speaking, oblivious to his efforts to keep her at bay. "I have to go play, but you and I have lots of catching up to do. _Lots._" The look she gave him spoke volumes for the type of catching up she had in mind.

"Uh, sure," he muttered as Lisette blithely looked over Joslin before waggling her fingers at him and sashaying back to her usual post. Joslin let loose a loud snort before mimicking Lisette's wave directly in his face. He could feel the snark radiating off of her, and braced himself for the onslaught he knew was coming his way.

"Who was _that?_"

"That's Lisette. She's, uh, a friend," he said, shoving his hair back and out of his face with his hand.

"Does _she _know that?" Joslin's hands were on her hips, a slight frown playing around her lips. _Is she jealous? _ The thought perked him up, and he shrugged at her with a cocky grin. Her eyes rolled as she pointed at a table for him to sit before heading to the bar to order a meal for them. The look she levied at the pretty bard on her return to the table led him to believe his suspicion was not far off base.

"Are we going to have to deal with women flinging themselves at you everywhere we go?" she asked petulantly, depositing a tankard in front of him so roughly a bit of ale sloshed over the sides. His laughter was swift and loud, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean across the table and tug at a strand of hair that was dangling in her eyes. She batted his hand away and scowled at him.

"Would that bother you? After all, I'm just an oaf and an ass, and you don't like me," he teased.

"It's none of my business," she huffed, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "I just want to be prepared for any future assaults."

"Mmmhmm," he hummed, taking a swig of his drink. "What about you? I can see you leaving a string of broken hearts in your wake everywhere you go." Her eyes rolled again, and she shook her head.

"Broken noses over lines like yours, maybe, but no hearts. I don't have time for games like that."

"So many dead bodies, so little time," he sighed dramatically, and caught the quick grin she struggled to suppress.

"I got us a couple of rooms," she said, changing the subject. "He said they're both upstairs. You can pay me back from your cut. We can divvy it up in the morning, after some sleep."

"Fine with me, just don't go sneaking out on me," he joked, but the flash in her eyes made him pause. "You weren't planning on doing that, were you?"

"I would never cheat someone out of their fair cut," she retorted, angry at the insinuation. No, he didn't suppose she would do that, but the look she had given him told him that she had considered ditching him. _Not on your life, sweetheart._

"Where are we going next?" he asked, but quickly remembered she didn't know the lay of the land. He wracked his knowledge of Skryim, trying to figure out the next closest ruin. "I think Saarthal is our best bet. If I'm not mistaken, it's near Winterhold, but we can ask around in the morning. The court wizard will probably know."

She nodded and looked up gratefully when the innkeeper brought them their food. The smell of roasted chicken and vegetables all but made him salivate. They ate in silence, a new tension developing between them. Gods, but she was a frustrating woman. One moment friendly, the next putting up a wall. With every step he made towards understanding her, she shoved him back ten. And he _did _want to understand her. The more time he spent with her , the more he wanted to know about her, but getting anything out of her was akin to yanking the tusks off a horker. He'd never had to work so hard with a woman. _But that's probably want makes her so interesting to you, _he thought wryly.

He looked up from his food and caught her staring at him, her expression unreadable. Her eyes were like glowing emeralds in the candlelight, and his breath caught in his throat. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to gather her up and haul her to a bed. Frustrating or not, and all her walls be damned, he couldn't remember having ever felt such primal lust for a woman before. He leaned forward, intending to wrap her hand in his, but her eyes shifted to the space behind his head. Her eyebrow cocked and a sardonic smirk took over her face.

He had a moment to register that Lisette was no longer singing, and then her hands were draped over his shoulders, her voice whispering something decidedly dirty in his ear. The fact that he had absolutely no reaction was completely lost on her. She scooted around his chair and planted herself firmly in his lap, blocking his view of Joslin. Lithe fingers played at the buckles of his armor. Hounds teeth, but the woman had the worst possible timing. Squirming under her ministrations, he caught sight of Joslin standing, hands on her hips, eyes rolling as ever.

"I'll be going up to my room, now," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Try not to stay up too late with your _friend._ I want to get an early start." And then she was gone, leaving him to frantically try and figure out a way to escape the woman tangled around him.


	6. Chapter 6

Grumpy. It was the only word Joslin could use to describe her mood the next morning as she sat at a table, counting through the gold she'd collected the day before. She'd slept horribly, tossing and turning late into the night, trying to ignore the nagging jealousy that stupid blonde bard had inspired. She was ashamed with herself, too, having crept over to the wall connecting the two rooms more than once, straining to hear sounds of movement, trying to determine if Benor had brought the woman up to his room.

_You know he probably did. And why the hell do you care, anyway?_

She didn't care. She wouldn't let herself care. That was all there was to it. Damn him, though. The way he'd been looking at her before _she _had come and plastered herself all over him…

Like he wanted to eat her alive. No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not even Louis, who had been all about soft touches and whispered words of endearment. She shuddered and scooped her share of the money forcefully into a pouch, sending coins rolling off the table and across the floor.

_Not going to happen. Ever. Gods damn that man._

It was still early, dawn light barely peeking through the window. She could hear birds beginning to chirp in the courtyard outside, and wondered if Benor was still sleeping. If he'd been up all night - _entertaining a guest - _there was still a chance she could leave his share discreetly with the innkeeper and slip out the inn. It was cowardly, it was probably unfair, but oh, she considered it heavily. Twisting her lower lip, her thoughts rolled through her head in a tangled heap of emotions. She stood and shoved the chair back under the table, wincing at the loud clack it made, her eyes traveling of their own accord to the dividing wall between her and the object of her ire. Gathering the coins she had separated, she stepped quietly into the hall.

Benor was leaning against the wall, encased in shadows, arms crossed over his massive chest. She narrowed her eyes and tossed his pouch to him, fighting back the urge to throw it directly into his smug face.

"Is your friend such an early riser?" she snarled, wanting to kick herself for letting her tone betray her wayward emotions. She had no right to be this catty with him. They barely knew each other, owed each other absolutely nothing. But the memory of him sitting there while that woman had put her hands all over him still irritated her to no end.

Benor shrugged at her nonchalantly, but his smirk stayed in place. He was reading her like a damn book, though she knew a blind man could tell what she was feeling right now. It pissed her off even more. Jealousy was not an emotion she often dealt with anymore, and she was finding the taste very, very bitter to the tongue. Turning on her heel, she stalked down the steps, not bothering to see if he was following her. He was, of course, and she could feel the amusement radiating off of him.

She'd been walking for a few minutes when she stopped dead, realizing she had no idea where she was going. She knew they should probably wait for the shops to open up, gather supplies and form a solid plan for tackling Saarthal. If Folgunthur had been any indication, the crypts here in Skyrim were pretty cramped places that wouldn't allow for a bigger team. Which was just as well. She was losing enough profit already, what with having to share everything straight down the middle with Benor. Once they finished up this business with the amulet, she promised herself she'd find a mercenary. It wasn't so much that she felt his cut was unfair, gods knew he was the one doing all the fighting, but she'd be able to make a better deal elsewhere.

A better deal that wasn't standing behind her, driving her completely insane.

Forcing herself to calm, she turned around to face him. He wasn't smirking anymore, but he looked entirely too pleased with himself for her liking. "Ok, where are we going?"

"I thought we decided on Winterhold," his voice oozed with mirth, all of which was at her expense.

"Yes, but where the hell is that? Is it close enough to walk? Do we need to find a carriage? C'mon, earn some of that money you're getting," she snapped, her patience run completely thin.

"Seems like it's a good thing you didn't leave me behind, doesn't it?" His expression subtly shifted, turning dark.

"I wasn't going to leave you behind." It wasn't a lie, not entirely. No matter how much she may have wanted to, she knew that she wouldn't have gone through with it. He had agreed to help her when she had no other options, and they both still needed more money for their separate plans. He had made it clear to her he wanted to finish this job, and she wasn't without honor, not matter what his opinions of her may be in that regard. "But as soon as we finish putting this amulet together, we're parting ways. Understood?"

He grunted at her and shook his head. "And here I thought we were becoming friends. All this over a little groping from a tavern wench, Joslin? "

"How you choose to spend your evenings is none of my concern. You can sleep your way through all of Tamriel for all I care," she retorted, but the words felt dishonest sliding over her lips. "However, you're costing me too much money, and that _is _a problem. We aren't friends, Benor. We're not going to _be _friends. We're business associates. Nothing more."

She heard the growl start low in his throat, all traces of his previous mirth gone in an instant. He advanced on her, but she stood her ground defiantly, knowing what was coming. He yanked her into his arms, but she held her back stiff, her hands balled into fists at her sides. When his mouth came down on hers, she kept her lips firmly shut, refusing to yield to the temptation that was threatening to consume her. His smell overwhelmed her senses, dark and heady, wholly male. He jerked her in tighter, pressed her lips harder, until finally he gave up and stepped back from her, his pale blue eyes reflecting anger and something deeper she didn't dare explore.

"There is something more between us, Joslin," he rasped, and she fought the tremor working its way down her spine. "I don't know what it is yet, but you feel it, too. Otherwise you wouldn't fight so hard to ignore it, you stubborn woman."

She kept her mouth shut, afraid that if she opened it everything she was straining to keep tamped down would come pouring out. She wanted to kick him, punch him, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply he'd crawled under her skin. They stood facing each other for what felt to her like an eternity before she finally broke the silence.

"Are you quite done?" she asked, feigning a tone of disinterest even as her stomach rolled and pitched. His eyes remained relentlessly locked onto hers, his mouth a hard line.

"For now."

"How do we proceed?"

"We rent a carriage. It'll take the better part of the day to get there," he conceded.

"Then I suggest we hurry up and find one," she said, turning on her heel and heading for the stables she recalled passing on their way into the town. Gods, she wanted this stand-off over with. Her nerves were wrecked and she was fighting hard to keep her hands from trembling. She suspected this was going to be one of the longest days of her life.

_0000000000_

She had maintained a stony silence the entire day, huddled in a corner of the cart, as far away from him as she could manage. Benor watched her shivering as the snow set in, and cursed himself for not making her wait to buy a few provisions, blankets and food at the very least. They hadn't even bothered to stop and make sure they were actually headed to the right place to find Saarthal.

The cold didn't bother him, he had grown up in the harsh climate, but it was taking a hard toll on her. He made to sit closer to her, thinking to block some of the wind blasting her with his bulk, but her eyes shot up the minute he moved, narrowing to slits as she shook her head at him in warning.

_This is ridiculous, _he thought with a sigh. It had been foolish to rile her up like he had. He knew that even as he had taken joy in pushing her buttons, but her blatant jealousy over Lisette had made the needling irresistible. The tenuous friendship that had been forming between them felt a thousand miles away now. For whatever the reason, she was determined to keep a distance between them, and he had handed her an excuse on a silver platter. A bold act of stupidity, and he was regretting it more with each passing hour.

"I didn't sleep with her."

She remained silent, staring past him into the encroaching dusk. He fiddled with a strap of leather on his armor, stretched out his long legs trying to work out the kinks. He scooted towards her, trying to encourage a response, anything. She stubbornly refused to acknowledge him in any way.

"Damnit, Joslin," he growled. "I said I didn't sleep with her. Well, not last night, anyway. We used to have a thing, I guess you could call it. It wasn't serious, and I haven't seen her in forever." It was hard to tell in the fading light, but he was pretty sure her eyes had rolled. It was a start. "I should have made it clear yesterday that I'm not interested in her that way anymore."

"I don't know why you think any of this matters to me," she snapped in irritation. Irritation was good. He could work with that. It was better than the silence.

"Because I'm not the man-whore you seem to think I am." Her derisive snort pricked at his nerves, and he took small satisfaction when the snowflake it caused her to inhale made her sneeze violently. "Believe it or not, I _do_ care what you think. I like you. And despite that prickly shield you insist on throwing up at me, I think you like me, too." He hadn't meant to be so open with her, but it was a relief to have it out there. He was growing weary of playing games with her, especially since they seemed intent on backfiring.

"I don't," she insisted, but her voice caught on the words. She cleared her throat before continuing. "You're determined to finish finding these fragments with me, fine. We can do that. I can be civil, but don't expect anything more."

"If this is your idea of civil, I'd hate to see you when you're really pissed off," he quipped, trying to lighten the mood. Her pronounced glare told him it wasn't working. "Look, I know you're upset with me. I probably even deserve it, but you haven't exactly been a peach yourself."

Her sigh was long and drawn out, and she turned her face away from him. The lights of Winterhold were fast approaching. He usually avoided the place unless absolutely necessary. The College made him nervous, too many mages roaming about. But tonight he was happy to put that aside. The lantern the driver held back as he announced their arrival revealed Joslin's blue lips, and it looked like ice had formed on her eyelashes. She needed to get warm, and fast.

They trudged into The Frozen Hearth, Benor shaking the snow out of his hair as he stopped the innkeeper to request rooms and food. He turned back to seek out Joslin and found her sitting next to a high elf in mages robe, speaking animatedly with him. He waited a while, watching her work her magic on the stranger, who was quietly laughing at something she said. It seemed she liked to talk to everyone but him. Scowling, he made his way to them.

"You're going to have to talk to Tolfdir up at the College. He's one of the professors, and your best bet for getting in on the excavation they have going," the elf was explaining. "They're pretty protective of the place, though, so I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Thank you, Nelacar. I appreciate the information," she replied, smiling warmly at him. When she brought her gaze up to Benor, there was a slight twinkle in her eyes. "We're going to the College in the morning. The _mage _College."

"Fantastic," he groaned. Her lips twitched before she stood up and stretched, her limbs audibly popping from their long journey. If his discomfort would help break down her most recent wall, then he would happily suffer through it.

"We might have a little trouble getting into the ruins, so I would really appreciate it if you could contain your disdain for magic while we're there," she criticized. "You make the most horrible faces when people cast spells. And you spit."

Benor winced. "I'll be on my best behavior. I promise."

"Whatever that means."

"I'm sorry, Joslin," he reached out for her arm, but she twisted aside to avoid his hand. He rubbed his jaw in frustration. "About last night, about today. I'm real sorry. I know right now that doesn't count for much with you, but if you could try to ease up, just a little, I think things will go a lot more smoothly between us."

"I'm going to take my food to my room," she said, accepting a plate from the innkeeper who nodded and pointed in the direction of one of their rooms. He was disappointed, but not surprised. He watched her retreat before sitting down next to the fire with his own meal. He was restless, on edge, nervous about what the morning would bring. Sleep would be a long time coming.

She had lied about not liking him. Her whole body had been lying when he'd tried to kiss her that morning. She was good at putting up a front, but she wasn't _that _good. He'd felt every muscle in her body twitching as she fought her response to him. What he didn't understand was why she was so dead set against letting him in, even a little. Lisette's fawning over him had bothered her, but her behavior today had to be driven by something deeper than simple jealousy.

Well, he'd have some time to try and figure it out, a few more days, maybe a week. She'd keep true to her word about keeping him around to piece together the amulet, he was sure of it. He'd ribbed her pride enough on that to make her stubbornness work in his favor. And if he had his way, he'd be sticking around a lot longer than that.


	7. Chapter 7

The cold was bitter and the snow made it difficult to see the large tower looming before them. It had taken quite a lot of persuading to get the snotty elf woman guarding the bridge that led to the College to let them in, but after finally relenting and casting a spell to demonstrate her capabilities, Joslin had won them entrance. Glancing out the corner of her eye at Benor, she was relieved the elf hadn't insisted that he also provide such a demonstration. That would not have gone over well.

It was his presence that had made her hesitant to cast in the first place. She had to give him credit, though. He was maintaining his composure quite well, even though she knew he had to be extremely uncomfortable in this place. Another restless night spent dwelling in her own head, and she had been forced to face the fact that she was being a monumental ass. Not that she had any intention of ever admitting that to him. She didn't even entirely understand _why _she had acted the way she did, except that there was something about him that put her completely on edge. She felt that if she let her guard down, even for just a moment, he'd see and worm his way in. Hell, he had already started.

Every time he looked at her it created a pull she had difficulty resisting. Becoming his friend would be easy. But it would also be easy to slip into something more, and that scared the hell out of her. She could handle the physical attraction, would have even acted on it by now if that was all there was between them, but she wasn't stupid. She'd had similar feelings for Louis when they first met – admittedly nowhere near as intense as the ones she was feeling now – and look how that had ended. Tears, heartache, the death of one of the only friendships she'd ever had. She didn't want to go down that road again.

But was that really a fair way for her to judge what was happening with Benor? He was so different from Louis, more confident in himself, more sure of his actions. She didn't know anymore. Didn't know how to process all the feelings that were flooding through her. She needed time and space to think, a place where he wasn't there every time she turned around. She needed… she didn't know what she needed.

The elf, Faralda, deposited them at the entrance to the College with instruction to go inside and find Tolfdir. She shook her head, relieved to abandon the heavy thoughts that were weighing her mind. She looked up to Benor, but his eyes were trained on the iron doors, a dark scowl on his face. He was fidgeting with him armor again, and she found something about that completely endearing. A big, beefy man like him, completely unnerved by a few scrawny mages. As long as he didn't blow up at any of them. If he ruined their chances at getting into Saarthal, she would personally learn a spell to set him on fire.

"Behave," she whispered, her palms extending to press against the cold metal. He glowered at her for a second, but nodded his agreement. The doors slid open with surprising ease, their footsteps echoing gently throughout the giant chamber that housed the Hall of Elements. Several mages were hard at work practicing their spells. The smell of fire and ozone permeated the air, and she found it oddly comforting. Benor's fidgeting increased, and she smiled slightly before taking a deep breath and grabbing his hand. She gave it a quick squeeze as astonished blue eyes searched her face.

"It will be fine," she murmured. "You'll see." He looked dubious, but visibly relaxed, tightening his grip around her fingers for a moment before releasing them. Her chest tightened at the display of trust, and she forced her gaze back to the mages. One of them, a bearded elderly man with long white hair, fit the description Nelacar had given her. He was deep in conversation with a younger man, using his hands to display the proper gesture for invoking a spell. The young mage frowned as he tried to copy the motions until a ball of weak light blossomed over his head, and he broke out in an engaging grin.

"Very good, Onmund! See? Alteration magic isn't as difficult as all that. You merely need to practice," Tolfdir said, his gentle nature apparent in his voice. Joslin found herself smiling as they approached, her fingers unconsciously mimicking the gestures she'd observed. The area around her burst into stunning brightness, and Benor uttered a curse as he shielded his eyes from the blinding light.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, cheeks burning in embarrassment. She concentrated on the glowing orb she had created and it slowly began to fade. Tolfdir laughed heartily, looking her over with an appraising eye. The pupil at his side gaped, his jaw looking to come unhinged.

"Never apologize for natural talent, child," he assured her. "Just make sure you learn how to properly wield it. I am Tolfdir, professor of Alteration here at the College of Winterhold, among other things. What has brought you to us today?"

"My name is Joslin. I was told to speak to you about getting into Saarthal," she explained, shaking his extended hand. "We're looking for a fragment of the Gauldur Amulet, and have reason to believe it's there."

Tolfdir remained quiet for a moment, studying her. It was silly, but she had the sensation that he was weighing her worth, and her nerves kicked in causing her to fidget almost as badly as Benor. She instinctively knew that her usual charm would not work on this man, he was too wise to fall prey to honeyed words. Finally, he seemed satisfied and offered her a smile.

"We've been planning an excavation which is to take place four days from now," he began. "I thought it would make for a good history lesson for my students, though some of them seem to object to the idea of disturbing the ruins." He looked to Onmund as he said this, who was scowling at his professor. Joslin suppressed a laugh, stealing a glance at Benor. He caught her look and smirked knowingly.

"I don't see why you shouldn't accompany us, but I have two conditions," he continued. Joslin nodded and waited for him to go on. "First, that you only take the amulet fragment that you seek. Anything else found within the ruins should return to the College."

Joslin fought the urge to object. Not only would she be losing time in waiting for the excavation, but she'd make no immediate profit from it. Still, she had little choice. Without Tolfdir's permission, getting into Saarthal would be highly difficult. Nelacar had warned her that the College kept it locked up tight, and guarded it with multiple ward spells.

"I agree," she said, trying not to give away her displeasure.

"Second, I'd like you to spend some time in the classes here. You clearly have an affinity for magic, but I can tell you've gone untrained. Not only is that a waste of potential, but it can be dangerous. The light spell you cast was harmless, but if you lost control of something more powerful the results could be disastrous. Let us give you a bit of training. You can stay in one of the student rooms here until after the excavation."

Joslin chewed on her lip for a moment, contemplating the offer. Learning how to better use magic was something that she had wanted for a long time, but never knew where to go to seek help. She knew it would benefit her for a long time to come, and an opportunity like this was unlikely to present itself again anytime soon. She nodded her acceptance, and Benor began grumbling next to her.

"And what about me? Where am I going to stay while all this happens? If you think I'm going to leave you here alone with these mages and go to the inn, you're out of your ever-loving mind," he muttered. Tolfdir laughed again, but it was a gentle noise meant to calm rather than aggravate.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you a place with your friend, as the Hall of Attainment is only for students. But we have an empty room in the work quarters. You are welcome there. I would only ask that you help out where you can," the professor offered.

"Fine," Benor grunted, but Joslin knew he was still displeased.

"Relax, Benor. It's only for a few days. Besides, being around all this magic might help loosen you up a bit," she couldn't resist teasing him. She noticed the younger mage, Onmund, staring at her. She turned her attention to him and gave him a friendly smile. Seeing his opening, he quickly piped up.

"I'd be happy to help you with Destruction magic," he exclaimed excitedly. "I've got great aptitude for it, all my instructors tell me so."

Benor glared at the man, moving in closer to Joslin as though to mark his territory. Joslin threw him a look and rolled her eyes. Inwardly, though, she felt a tiny thrill of satisfaction.

_Let's see how well jealousy sits with you, big guy._

_0000000000_

Benor was finding it didn't sit well with him at all. He'd kept himself busy for two solid days, finding odd jobs around the College with which to lend a hand. He helped out in the kitchen, getting the meals prepared. He chopped so much wood he suspected there was enough to keep everyone in Skyrim warm for at least a month. When he woke up on the third morning, his body stiff and aching from the physical labor, he decided that it would be a day of rest. Entering the crypts in anything less than top form was out of the question. He'd be damned if he was going to trust a bunch of milk-drinking mages to keep Joslin safe.

Joslin, who he'd seen very little of. He found excuses to pass the Hall of Elements whenever he could, but she was always deeply engrossed in her training. She stuck out like a sore thumb, having refused to trade in her leathers for the more traditional robes. It made him smile to see that she was truly stubborn in all things, not just when it came to him. What didn't make him smile was that sniveling man-child who had attached himself to her hip. Even now, as Benor leaned against the arched stone doorway watching her practice a fire spell, Onmund was hovering over her, offering loud words of praise every time she made the flame flicker to life.

_Watch how close you get to what's mine, little boy, or I'll break every one of your magic fairy fingers, _he thought, sighing at the vicious tug of possessiveness. No doubt if Joslin knew what he was thinking she'd strike him down dead. As if she could sense his presence, she turned her attention to him from across the hall, waving and tilting her lips in a cheeky grin before going back into a huddle with Onmund. Confounding woman. He'd never met anyone who could flash from hot to cold and back again so quickly.

She had been right about him loosening up, though. Some of the inhabitants of the College had been aloof to him at first, but many were friendly, going out of their way to make him feel welcome. It had only taken a day for him to adjust to the sensation of magic surrounding him everywhere he went. He surprised himself by finding it almost pleasant now. Although yesterday, when he had accidentally wandered to close to a Khajiit practicing with electricity in the courtyard, he'd gotten the shock of his life. It hurt like hell, but not as bad as he would have thought. It had, however, given him a whole new appreciation for the power these people wielded.

He made his way upstairs to the Arcanaeum, hoping to find Urag at his usual post. He had come here the first evening, bored and frustrated, desperate for distraction. He was shocked to find the surly Orc presiding over the library, fiercely protective of his books. Many Nords disliked the creatures, but Benor had yet to fight beside a more formidable warrior. They had a grace and honor in battle that inspired him, but he had never encountered one that had taken up the mages robes. They'd conversed late into the evening, and Benor had come back the next night to continue their talks.

Finding the library empty now left him disappointed and restless. Browsing the shelves he selected a book that looked promising and sprawled out in a chair. Minutes had ticked by when the sound of footsteps broke his concentration, a shadow falling over him. Too light and small to be Urag, he looked up into twinkling green eyes.

"Why, Benor! I had no idea you were such a scholar," Joslin teased, leaning a hip against the table he had propped his feet upon. Grunting, he sat upright and closed the book.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"The Lusty Argonian Maid? You're right. I wouldn't have expected you to have such...exotic tastes," she said, raising a brow at the explicit drawing on the cover. Benor felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but he gritted his teeth and refused to rise to her baiting.

"I'm surprised Onmund let you out of his sight. You two have been thick as thieves these last couple of days," he groused. It was completely childish, but he didn't care.

"He's such a nice man. Very helpful, you know. And the things he can do with ice..." she taunted, the suggestive look in her eyes unmistakable. She shifted her weight to sit on the table, crossing her legs as she stared him down. What fresh Hell was she trying to put him through now? He tore his eyes away from her, settling his gaze on a painting across the room, willing his breathing to return to normal.

"What's the matter, Benor? Can't stand a little competition?"

_That's it... this ends now._

He shot up out of his chair, rocking the table and causing Joslin to scramble to keep her precarious perch. Grabbing her knees, he parted her legs and he pushed himself between her thighs. Her eyes went wide as he ground the result of her teasing against her center, the soft leather pants he had taken to wearing doing little to disguise his hardness. Her hands pressed against his chest and for a moment he thought she would shove him away, then her fingers were gripping the collar of his shirt, dragging his mouth down to hers.

Fire. The world was on fire. Her mouth was wicked, her teeth nipping at his lips before sliding down to his jaw and back up to his ear. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, forcing him to press harder against her as she ran her tongue along the lobe, stopping to tug none too gently at the earring he wore. He groaned senselessly, battling to take back control. Pulling away from her, he shoved her back against the table, tried to keep his fingers from shaking as he worked the ties of her leather vest loose. Why did there have to be so many damn layers?

The cotton of her undershirt finally exposed, he ran his hands over the soft cloth covering her full breasts. Her nipples hardened instantly against his palms and she whimpered, bucking her hips against him. He lowered his mouth, scraping his teeth against the hard bead waiting for him. Her back arched, and he looked up to watch her mouth fall open, her moan echoing around the room, bathing him in its sweetness. He lowered a hand and stroked her where their two bodies met, cursing the thickness of her pants even as her entire body shuddered in response.

He had to force himself to stop or he would take her right here on this table, visitors to the library be damned. It was torture, unwrapping her legs from around him and stepping away, every instinct in his body commanding him to grab her and end this maddening need pulsing through him. She raised herself up on her elbows, heavy lidded eyes dark as she watched his every move.

"Go back to your _boy_, Joslin," he whispered roughly, his voice thick with desire as he watched her tremble before him. "If you decide you'd rather play with a man, you know where to find me tonight."

He stalked out of the room, all of his willpower focused on getting him out without turning back to look at her, silently praying to all nine Divines that she would take him up on his offer.

**A/N: I've added an in-game screenshot of Benor and Joslin to my profile, for those that are interested!**


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